


Heat

by shireness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Face-Sitting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, So that's a thing, apparently I write smut now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: There's only so much that one can do on a hot and lazy morning. Luckily, Killian has a wife to do it with.Or: CS honeymoon sex.





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is - my second entry for the CS September Sunshine event! Not sure where this came from, so bear with me. Super thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta skills and taking the time to figure out if limbs actually work that way. 
> 
> Rated E for, you know, the sex thing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Knees are so fucking weird,” Emma comments from beside him. It’s still early morning, the sunlight barely peeking through the gauzy curtains they’d hung together in their bedroom, and Killian had been under the apparently mistaken impression that they were both dozing comfortably in the dim morning light. It’s hot in the middle of summer, even in Maine, and even this early in the morning. They barely have a sheet on the bed, and as Killian reluctantly peels an eye open, he can see that Emma’s stuck a leg out from underneath them, likely in search of the breeze from the ceiling fan. It already flutters at the opened drapes on their four-poster bed and licks along the uncovered skin of his shoulders where his right arm is slung over Emma’s waist.

His  _ wife _ .

They’d been a little too busy attempting to defeat the Black Fairy for him to really revel in that title in the immediate aftermath, but he’s determined to make up for that now. For so long, he thought he’d never get married, never experience this kind of quiet domesticity and the comfort of knowing that you definitely, irrevocably belong with another person. Of course, marriage is just a social institution, two names on a paper and an unnecessarily opulent ritual, but there’s a solemnity to pledging yourself to another person in front of witnesses. None of it will change anything; they committed to each other long ago, but still…

He has a  _ wife _ .

They're on their honeymoon, supposedly, or at least as close to one as they'll get with the ever-present threats that come with living in Storybrooke. Leaving town had been out of the question; Emma hadn't been comfortable with the idea of leaving her son when the Black Fairy's minions might still have been about. Things have been quiet since the old witch's defeat, but everyone seems to be of the same mind that it's best to keep an eye out for the moment. They'd thought about taking the Jolly out as far as the town's boundaries stretched, and there is still something appealing about the idea of nothing but him and Emma and the sea, but they'd ultimately opted just to stay home, cocooned in the house they're still trying to make their own. 

(Just because they're home doesn't mean they're available, however; Emma's put up so many repelling wards, designed to keep out all but Henry - who knows not to interrupt unless death itself is threatening the town - that the house might as well be invisible. The delivery boy has been very good about waiting at the gate for one of them to come down to exchange food for a tip.)

A haze of sex still permeates the room after the activities of the night before. Somewhere in the room is discarded lingerie, a lacy number that Killian had barely restrained himself from tearing straight through when Emma had sauntered out of the bathroom. Their first joining had been heated, furious, suitable for the first night of a delayed honeymoon; the second time around had been more gentle when they'd woken up at half past one, still as hungry but in a measured way that slowly drove their passions higher and higher as they laid on their sides, Killian’s front pressed to Emma’s back as he took her from behind,, all just barely visible in the light of a candle hastily lit by magic.

As for round three... that's still to be seen.

"Not a sentence I expected to hear," he yawns, stretching himself into full consciousness. "Should I be insulted?"

"I mean, if you want to be," Emma snickers. "I was talking about my own knees, but yeah, yours are pretty weird looking too. Hairy."

"Oi!" he protests, wiggling his fingers against Emma's side to make her squirm. That's another benefit of marriage, or at least of finding himself in a committed relationship: learning all of Emma's ticklish spots, and the best way to exploit them. "You like that hair. Elsewhere, at least, if the way you moan when my chest hair rubs against your nipples is any indication."

"Yeah, but leg hair is different," Emma protests in between bursts of laughter.

"And how is that, pray tell?" He stills his fingers for just a moment to let Emma catch her breath. Now that he's awake, there's other things he'd rather do with those fingers anyways - so many places to stroke and tease to coax his darling wife into a state of indescribable pleasure.

"It just is. Because I say so," she grins cheekily.

"Is that so?"

"It is. And you know, if you want this marriage thing to go well, it'd probably be a good idea to remember that. I'm always going to be right. Happy wife, happy life, or something."

"Oh, I'll show you a happy wife," he growls, abruptly capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. It's like his blood springs to a boil immediately, the very touch of her lips setting him on fire. Not that they're stopping at just a gentle brush of the lips; Emma's mouth parts readily to admit his seeking tongue, and he takes full advantage of that permission to practically devour her. There's no resisting temptation when she tastes this good, and Emma gives as good as she gets, nipping at his bottom lip and making him moan - a fact that makes her lips quirk up delightedly. Killian sucks on her own lip in turn before inching his hand up to cup a breast. It only takes a few passes of his thumb to coax the bud to alert tightness, pebbled and sensitive. Emma arches to meet his touch, but that only causes her other nipple to brush against the chest hair she'd so maligned earlier, and her breath catches in a sudden gasp.

"I told you so, love," he teases, only breaking away from her mouth to deliver his mild mockery. 

"Oh shut up," she growls back. "Just kiss me, Jones."

"As you wish, Mrs. Jones." He hasn't had a chance to use that particular title nearly enough; he’ll have to rectify that in the near future, as many times as he can. 

Somehow, their kisses slow down, become deeper and more thorough. On a morning like this, with no family expecting them and no threat knocking on their door, they've got all the time in the world, and Killian intends to take advantage of every moment. He'd be a fool not to, really.

When he moves to shift his weight over her body, though, Emma hums a note of protest. Killian moves swiftly back to the side, putting some space between them. “Sorry, love, I —”

“No, no, it’s not that I’m not in the mood, it’s just —” she huffs, the noise filled with obvious frustration. “It’s too fucking  _ hot _ .”

Killian laughs. Even if he’s left a space between his and Emma’s bodies for the moment, his fingertips still trace patterns along the naked skin of her stomach and thighs. “This summer has been fierce,” he admits. Even this early in the morning - it can’t be much past seven, if that - he can already feel the humidity beginning to collect in every corner of the room. Today’s going to be a scorcher.

Emma flops her head over dramatically to meet his eyes. “Sorry,” she grimaces, “but even the sheet feels like too much.”

“That’s quite alright, love,” he replies, stretching his neck to drop a light kiss on her cheek. “I understand.” They lay in a peaceful silence for a minute, bodies pulled between a simmering arousal and that early morning lethargy that still might pull them back under into sleep. Slowly, a plan starts to form in his mind. “Though out of curiosity…” he begins before trailing off again.

“Yeah?”

“Is your only opposition to a little… shall we say,  _ early morning delight _ the aforementioned heat?” As he speaks, Killian lets his fingers quest across her outer thigh again, his arm thrown across her belly. 

A slow, sly smile inches its way across Emma’s face where she still faces him, almost a smirk. He’d almost say that was something she picked up from him, if it wasn’t somehow such an Emma thing. “You got a plan in mind, Captain?” she asks, punctuating the word with a hard consonant and a salacious lick of her lips. If Killian’s arousal had been flagging after their brief intermission, that gesture alone sparks a new fire in him; beneath the thin sheet, he can feel his cock harden in renewed interest. 

(Her bare breasts might have something to do with that too, especially with the way she’s stretched to display them to their best advantage. It doesn’t hurt, either, knowing that he’s got her all to himself for days and days yet, and as his  _ wife _ .

Has he mentioned yet just how glorious it is to be married to the love of his life?)

“Maybe,” he smirks back, before abruptly using his hand to pull Emma onto his own body. She quickly catches on, moving to sit up and properly straddle his body. For the moment, she still rests on his torso, the delectable swell of her buttocks just resting on his hip bones. The aforementioned knees pose more of a challenge as Emma nearly jabs him in the side trying to settle into position. It’s hard to care too much when she’s smiling so happily, but he still can’t help but tease her a bit for it.

“There’s easier ways to take my breath away, darling,” he winks.

“Shut up and kiss me, pirate.”

He complies, of course; he’d be a fool to argue with that kind of command. He pulls Emma down roughly to meet his lips with his hand to the back of her head and his stump on her hips, allowing her hair to cascade around them. Killian allows the kiss for a moment, lets them resume their earlier dueling of tongues and crushing of lips as Emma tries to grind down on his abdomen, before he breaks them apart again, pulling Emma’s hips forward until she’s forced to sit back up or crack her spine in half.

“What are you doing?” she laughs. “Doesn’t this defeat the point?”

“Maybe I’ve got a different idea.” If his tone itself weren’t salacious enough, the way he raises his eyebrow ought to drive that home. Well, that and the way he keeps pulling Emma’s hips further and further up his body. “One I think you’ll like.”

Never let it be said that his Swan isn’t a quick study - especially where a prospect so obvious and enjoyable is involved. She braces her hands against the wall, just above where the wrought iron of their bed frame stops, as Killian pulls her just that last inch into place. There’s something so primal and beautiful, so arousing, about the sight of her folds glistening just inches above his mouth, just begging him to reach up for a taste of her core. Come to think about it, there’s no reason he shouldn’t do exactly that, and with that realization, Killian wraps his hand and stump around the outside of Emma’s thighs to rest along the flesh of her hips and draw her down within proper reach of his mouth.

There’s nothing truly different about attempting this while married than while courting or while betrothed (aside from the ring on his finger, of course), but Killian feels inclined this morning to put a little extra care - or rather, a little extra tenderness; the care is always there, implicit and inextricable in every movement he makes where his love is concerned - into the way he loves her with his mouth. Perhaps he need not be so meticulous - after all, Emma begins to squirm at the mere feel of his warm breath across her center- but he takes his time anyways, making sure to trace along the outside of her folds with exquisite slowness and care. It’s gratifying to hear the shaky little breath that Emma exhales at the touch, and Killian can’t help but grin from his position under her.

Obviously, she feels that somehow - or maybe sees it; he’s a little too focused on the primal glory before him to see where her own eyes are aimed. “Don’t get cocky on me yet, Jones,” she warns, shifting on her knees in anticipation.

“I thought you liked me cocky,  _ Jones _ ” he says, nosing up towards her nub just to see what kind of noise she makes. “Isn’t that rather the aim of all this?”

(For what it’s worth, that earns him another shaky breath. Excellent.)

“Prove it to me first.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He’s more than happy to do exactly that. 

The strokes of his tongue pick up speed over time, alternating with flicks to her clit, before he switches to draw the entire flat of his tongue across her opening. Emma moans in response, and Killian takes it as his permission to advance his efforts, beginning to dip his tongue inside her sheath for a new and intense sensation. His jaw is beginning to ache from his slow and continuous efforts, but that becomes a secondary concern when Emma begins grinding down on his face, seeking more friction and the climax he know must be singing in her veins, just waiting to explode. He’s done his best to pay her nub attention with the nudge of his nose when he’s not bid it the attentions of his tongue, but now he fully shifts his attention there to flick his tongue rapidly over the bit of flesh, bringing his hand around from where it had been bracing her thigh to slip a finger inside her core.. Emma pants heavily at the new sensation, beginning to vocalize high-pitched and breathy sounds, and Killian knows that her bliss must be just within reach. Quickly, he switches to sucking on her clit and slips a second finger within her pulsing sheath and curls them in search of that special spot, and thrusts, and sucks, and thrusts, and curls, and sucks, and sucks…

And Emma falls into her orgasm with a loud cry of relief. As her muscles relax in the aftermath, Emma sags, dropping to lean on the bed frame and inadvertently settling more of her weight onto Killian’s face. Honestly, if this is how he dies… what a way to go.

Emma comes back to herself before that, however, and shifts herself back down his body to drape across Killian’s torso, a happy and boneless mess. The same can’t be said for Killian, however; every nerve in his body feels awake and thirsting for contact, and his cock is hard and throbbing and ready for relief, preferably within the clasp of Emma’s body. The way his erect member just brushes against the flesh of her rear, glancing against her damp flesh as she wriggles in a comfortable position, does not help matters in the least.

“God, you’re good at that,” she sighs.

“I only aim to please my lady,” he replies smoothly.

Emma slowly pushes herself back upright. “Feels like you could use a little pleasing yourself.”

“A man can’t help himself, love, when faced with such a siren as yo _ uuuuuu _ .” The last word ends up exhaled on a desperate hiss as Emma lifts and rearranges herself to grind along his cock. It’s not nearly enough, but it’s something, and after working himself up so much lavishing his attentions onto Emma, it feels bloody fantastic.

“Need you, love,” he manages to gasp out as Emma moves slow enough along his member to drive him crazy with the most pleasurable torture. “Gods, but you feel good. Let me make you feel good too, please, love,  _ please  _ —” He’s practically babbling, but doesn’t have the strength to care, not when he’s  _ so close  _ to exactly what he wants - to bury himself deep within her heat and let her ride them both into completion.

“Something you want, Captain?” she smirks, even if Killian can hear her own breath catch with every pass of her hips. 

“Just you, love,” he gasps -  _ groans _ . 

Finally,  _ finally _ , she grasps his cock and guides him to her opening, slowly easing herself down on him in a slick slide. Every shift of her hips as she adjusts herself to her comfort feels glorious; though she’s just rocking her hips back and forth at the moment, settling into his sensual invasion, he can already tell that the moment she starts to properly fuck him, it’ll blow his damn mind and send him into a spectacular orgasm. He just hopes he can hold out more than two minutes.

When Emma does begin to move, lifting her hips and slamming them back down with a tricky little swivel that sends Killian’s eyes rolling back in his head, he knows he was right to worry. The clench and drag of her core around his cock is exquisite beyond words, especially combined with the way her thumbs scrape across his nipples where she braces herself on his chest. 

For what it’s worth, he does last longer than two minutes; however, it’s hard to think of anything that might temper his arousal when he’s got a perfect view of where their bodies join again and again. There’s something hypnotizing about it, seeing where they become one in body as well as soul.  _ He’s  _ the one who gets to be so fully enveloped by this blonde angel, and it still astounds him every day - married or not. Sweat glistens upon both their skin now, but there’s a satisfaction in knowing that’s because of their exertions, not the heat increasingly gathering as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. 

Soon enough, though, they hit a point of no return, thankfully shortly after Emma’s own movements become more purposeful and she stops teasing him in order to properly chase her own climax. Killian helps them both along by bracing his feet against the mattress to thrust up, making Emma moan deeply in response. Her hair just teases his kneecaps when she throws her head back in pleasure; between the way her breasts jostle with each thrust and the sight of her long, slender throat, she looks like some kind of sensual painting, or a spirit sent for him to worship (and be worshipped by in return).

“Close,” Emma gasps out. She’s not much of a talker during sex, her moans and gasps instead the evidence of her pleasure; she must have spotted the tell-tale signs of his own impending release, and sought to warn him not to go off without her. Quickly, he moves his fingers just above where they’re joined to rub at her clit and hopefully send her into her climax before he explodes.

It doesn’t quite work; all the sensations are just a bit too much, and Killian can’t hold back any longer, shooting his release with a loud groan. By some miracle - or maybe just clever fingers - Emma’s right behind him, the telltale clench of her orgasm hitting just as Killian’s own pleasure begins to subside. Somehow, he has the presence of mind even in his sated exhaustion to coax her through it with continued pressure against her nub until Emma finally slumps over his body, utterly drained of energy. 

He’d be happy to stay like this forever, just basking in the afterglow with his love (his  _ wife _ !), but his cock is softening within her body and they really do need to disconnect from one another. Still, once they’ve separated, he clasps Emma to his chest instead of letting her roll off to the side.

“Won’t you get hot?” she murmurs, already falling back towards sleep. 

“See if I care,” he whispers back with a kiss to the crown of her hair.

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it even half as much as these two did. 
> 
> Also posted on tumblr, where I'm @shireness-says. Come leave it some love.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thanks again for reading!


End file.
